ONE MORE TIME

The sky outside the Mythic Base shimmered in quiet tones of navy and charcoal, the stars just barely visible beyond the magical barrier that hung like a veil over Lumisgrave. The wind was gentle. For the first time in days, the air carried no scent of ash or blood.

Inside the medical ward, the soft glow of enchantment lights hovered above each resting Mythic, their energies recovering under the gentle pulse of curative magic.

Nirela Quen lay propped up against a pillow, her long silver-black hair fanned gently around her shoulders. She looked far better than before—still pale, but stable. Her breathing steady. The warmth had returned to her cheeks. She stared out the window in quiet thought, lost somewhere between pain and healing.

Then the door creaked open.

A pair of slow footsteps entered.

Arslan.

He paused near the door, as if making sure she was awake. Then, seeing her shift slightly, he walked in with hesitant steps, hands behind his back.

She looked at him.

He looked at the floor.

A long pause stretched between them like a thread waiting to break.

Then Arslan quietly said:

"I'm sorry… Nirela."

Her eyes welled up immediately, shimmering under the soft light. She turned her face away for a moment, trying to stop the tears, but they rolled down anyway.

Her voice cracked, trembling:

"Don't… ever do that again. If you push me away like that again…"

She turned her face back to him, eyes red.

"I'll never forgive you again, Arslan. Ever."

Arslan walked closer, slowly, step by step, until he stood beside her bed.

He didn't speak right away. His eyes met hers—open, honest, raw.

Then he placed his hand over hers and said softly:

"I promise… I will never hurt you again. Never."

Nirela swallowed back her tears and gave the smallest, fragile nod.

"Then… I forgive you."

For a few moments, neither said a word.

Then she asked, gently:

"Why did you come here at this hour?"

Arslan replied, a faint smile on his lips:

"I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about what I did to you. To all of you. I needed to see you… just to make sure you're really okay."

She gave a short laugh through her wet lashes.

"Still the same Arslan. You won't say much, but your heart yells louder than your words."

They shared a brief silence—comfortable this time.

Then they talked. Nothing serious. Just small things.

About how Seris had tripped while trying to carry three potion bottles. About how Milo had fallen asleep standing against the wall. About how Tharion secretly loved those spicy honey buns but never admitted it.

For the first time in a long time, they laughed.

But the clock ticked. And it was time to leave.

Arslan stood, brushing the back of his hand gently against her blanket.

"You need rest. I'll leave now."

As he stepped toward the door, Nirela's voice came out softly, trembling slightly but filled with everything she'd ever wanted to say:

"Arslan…"

He stopped, his hand on the doorframe. Turned slowly, eyes slightly wide.

She was sitting upright now, her hand gripping the edge of the blanket.

"I love you, Arslan."

The words hung in the air like stardust.

Arslan didn't speak.

He walked slowly back to her bedside.

Then, gently, with the kind of silence that said more than words ever could, he leaned forward…

And kissed her forehead.

He pulled back, his eyes deep but calm.

Then without a word, he turned and walked out of the ward, leaving Nirela with her hand over her forehead, her heart beating like a quiet thunder.

Outside, the wind was softer now.

And somewhere in the shadows of the Mythic courtyard, Kar'Thael whispered from within Arslan's mind:

> "Even shadows need someone to walk beside, Arslan. You found yours."